


Defying Gravity

by Crollalanza



Series: A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: After a row with his Muggle mother, Daichi escapes on his broomstick intent on putting as much distance between himself and the house so he can calm down. Landing in an apple tree was not in the plan. And falling from the apple tree and almost in the lap of the utterly beautiful Sugawara Koushi, was very definitely not part of the script.But maybe his day's about to take a turn for the better ...





	Defying Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 2 of Daisuga Week 2017 on tumblr - prompt Magic. 
> 
> It's a prequel to another story of mine 'Bubble, Bubble, Toil and Trouble (Daichi burns while Suga bubbles)' so you might like that, too. :D
> 
> I've used Hogwart school years, so Daichi is the year below Suga.

It was the arrival of the owl that had precipitated him into leaving the house. Despite telling his friends never to send him anything, unless they sent it the Muggle way, one or two of them always forgot. This note was from Bokuto, a lowkey type of Howler shouting ‘Hey Hey Hey’ as soon as he’d opened it up. Daichi had laughed, at the time, but then he’d heard his mum’s footsteps charging towards him and she’d burst into his bedroom.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you are not allowed to ... to... perform your tricks in this house?”

“It’s just a letter, Mum. My friend sent it. Look –” He held it out, hoping the parchment that had settled itself into the shape of a smile would ease her fear.

“It’s abnormal!”

“It’s ... it’s normal for Hogwarts. Like you texting your friends. This is just another sort of ... uh ... _trick_.”

But she wouldn’t listen. Her lips pinched, the tendons in her neck strained as she whipped away the letter and ripped it into pieces.

“Mum!”

The torn mouth flipped feebly in her hand and she shrieked, scattering it over the floor. “It’s unnatural. That can’t happen!” she yelped.

“It happens at Hogwarts all the time,” he said, and tried to picture a soothing charm in his head, hoping an image would be enough to cool the temper bubbling inside of him.

And maybe it would still have been okay. He’d not raised his voice and she’d started to loosen her grasp on his arm. But then Bokuto’s owl returned, landing on the windowsill and hopped inside the room, clearly expecting an owl nut treat, or a return letter.

“GET THAT BIRD OUT OF HERE!” she screeched, and picking up a book, she threw it across the room.

It was a photo album, one Daichi had started in his first year. One that had four years worth of photographs, from the moment he’d stepped into the magical world, a catalogue of the new life he’d leapt at, catching with both hands as surely as he caught the Quaffle. Pictures slipped from the pages. They were ones taken from his fourth year that he’d not been able to affix with a sticking charm yet. Muggle glue and magic photographic paper were not a happy combination and the photographs didn’t just fall, but jumped and swirled around the room.

“What are all of these?” she asked, then her voice quietened because she could see very clearly the last batch of photographs fluttering to the floor.

“It’s a Quidditch team,” he mumbled, wondering whether to dash forward and gather them up, but that would only arouse her suspicions. “That’s the sport I play.”

“Your flying team,” she said, disparagement infusing her tone, and bending down she picked up three of the photographs. “That’s the Azumane boy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, relieved. “And that’s Kamasaki next to him.”

“And who’s this?” she asked.

He swallowed as she brandished one picture in front of him, wondering if he could bluff his way out of it. As a Muggle, his mum was certainly no Legilimans, and yet she had a way of reading him, especially if he lost control of his emotions.

“That,” he replied, trying to sound nonchalant as the picture laughed at winked at him, “is Sugawara Koushi.”

“You’ve not mentioned him before.”

“He’s not in Gryffindor,” he mumbled and tried a shrug.

“Why do you have a picture of him?”

Good question. One he asked himself every night.

“He’s a Quidditch player. We’re ... uh ...” ‘Friends,’ he wanted to say, but that wasn’t true. He stared at the picture again, noticing the subject was now beaming out a smile, blinding with its warmth.

“You’re what?”

“He’s ... um ... a guy I know, that’s all. I’ve got lots of pictures of people from school, Mum. It’s an amazing place and I want to –”

“He’s winking at you.” She shivered. “It’s like he’s flirting.”

_Yeah, he was, but not with me._

“He’s friendly, that’s all,” Daichi mumbled, his thoughts skeltering back as he remembered the late afternoon sun and Sugawara on a high, laughing and waving and winking and flirting with everyone, yet still he’d had this way  of making it feel it was aimed at you.

 “Friendly? That’s what you call it.” She frowned, then picked up some more of the photos, the scowl deepening and lips pursing even tighter. “You have a lot of him.”

“It was after a match,” he ploughed on, despite seeing her disapproval. “I was taking pictures for the school newspaper.”

“Of one player.”

“Uh ... no ... but he’d flown very well and caught the Snitch in this really wonderful swooping move and everyone was surprised because they were up against Slytherin who are generally the best team and –”

“So if these were pictures for a newspaper, why have you kept them?”

“I dunno.”

“So I can throw them away, can I?” Her hand crumpled up the photo, and Suga’s smile became a grimace.

“NO!” He tried to grab it from her, but she whipped away. “Leave it alone, please.”

But she didn’t listen and ripped into the photo as surely as she had Bokuto’s Howler, but this time instead of a torn mouth, Suga’s image fled the photograph, and Daichi thought he heard a scream.

Or was that his own yell? Anger bubbling upwards to the tips of his fingertips, he felt his face flush and then the remaining photographs on the floor swirled dart-like up into the air.

His mother’s face blanched, her eyes screwed up tight, and she shielded her face with her hands. “STOP THIS!”

In horror, Daichi staggered backwards, slamming against the wall. The tornado of photographs stilled, fluttering to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped. “Sometimes I don’t ... I can’t ...”

“Control yourself. Yes, I can tell. I thought this school was supposed to help you control your urges!” His mother’s voice shook. She straightened up, and smoothed down her skirt. “If you cannot behave normally under _my_ roof, then I’m going to write to Professor Nekomata and tell him you won’t be returning.”

“WHAT!”

“In fact, you’re grounded for the rest of the Summer.”

 “MUM!”

There’d been no convincing her. She was on the phone to his dad, screaming Banshee-like that he ‘do something!’, before Daichi had gathered all the photographs together. Bokuto’s owl appeared from the pot plant he’d been hiding behind, and flew to Daichi’s shoulder, giving him a peck on the ear.  He wondered whether to let Bokuto know what had happened, but his dorm-mate would storm right over to bust him out, and that would heap down trouble on both of them.

“Hey,” Daichi mumbled as he scribbled out a note. “Tell Koutarou I’ll see him at Platform nine-and-three-quarters, and he’s to save me some fizzing whizzbees.”

His mum had taken the precaution of turning the lock on his bedroom door, but she’d reckoned without his flying ability, one she’d shown no interest in when he’d tried to explain how great Quidditch was. And as he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb (he could picture the Ministry owls delivering censure, winging their way to his mum’s house now) Daichi picked up his wand and stared out of the window. A beautiful day. The sort of day he’d like to be with his dorm-mates, flying around the Hogwarts grounds, for fun and nothing else. Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, then grasping his broom, Daichi twisted himself out of the window, and flew away.

He had no real idea where he was going. It was just that he needed to put as much distance as he could between the house and himself. If he lost his temper again, and his mother had her way, he’d not make the Hogwarts Express and although he had no doubt Professor Nekomata would fight his corner, he was underage and the Ministry might well intervene if a Muggle was in danger.

So he continued to fly, keeping above a row of trees with the sun on his back. The trees thickened, their lines increasing as he flew onwards. Too uniform for a forest, and too many for a garden, Daichi came to the conclusion he was flying through an orchard. The thought entering his head, his stomach immediately rumbled and his throat dried. He slowed up, hovering above a particularly wide spread tree, leaning over to see what he could spy.

Apples. He could snatch one now, then continue on his way. An apple would stave off his hunger and slake his thirst. Maybe he could take a few with him. Surely, the farmer wouldn’t miss these ones right at the top. He lowered himself down, balancing on the top of the tree and plucked one apple. Red one side, green the other, it reminded him of the Quidditch stand when Gryffindor played Slytherin. Smiling wryly, he took a bite out of the green side, then gurned.

“Yowzers, that’s sour!” He spat out the chunk of apple, then threw the rest of it away.

“Ouch!”

Daichi froze at the voice (or tried to, but a breeze had picked up and he wasn’t entirely steady on the treetop).

“What’s the matter?” someone on the ground asked, sounding solicitous

“Something fell on my head!” replied the first person (male, he thought). “I must tell Dad in case there’s a Bowtruckle infestation.”

Bowtruckles?  Are they wizards? Daichi blinked then grasping hold of a branch, keeping his thighs twisted around his broomstick, he swept his arms through the tree canopy and peered down. Through the leaves, he could make out two people sprawled under the tree, one now sitting up and rubbing his head.

“Bowtruckles don’t live in apple trees, Tooru.”

Tooru?  Fuck, _Oikawa_ Tooru. Of bloody course. Only he would be rich enough to have a bloody orchard for a garden.

“Well, something hit me!”

“We _are_ sitting in an apple orchard. It’s just the sort of thing that happens, as Isaac Newton would tell you.”

“Who? Is he in Hufflepuff?”

Tooru’s friend hooted. “He’s a Muggle Scientist! You really should have taken Muggle Studies. It’s fascinating. Isaac Newton was sitting under a tree one day, an apple fell on his head and he invented gravity.”

Someone else snorted, and looking to the side, Daichi spied a pair of trainers coming into view. “He didn’t invent gravity. It was already there, Suga.”

Jeez, that’s Sugawara on the grass!

Which should have been Daichi’s cue to leave, but as he tried to right himself, his shirt sleeve snagged on a branch.

“What is _gravity_?” Oikawa asked.

“It’s the force that makes things fall,” said the third person. “So something in a tree will fall down because the earth is pulling it towards it.”He paused. “Although ...”

Daichi barely dared breathe. Through the trees, he could see a figure with dark hair picking up something from the ground. “Your Bowtruckle has a very human bite. Look at this!”

“Oh ...”

And then the three of them turned their faces skywards.

Daichi jerked up, pulling at his sleeve, intent on flying away quicker than a jinx because not only was this clearly Oikawa property and they’d probably report him to the Ministry for breaking and entering or theft of a rotten apple or ... _Oh my gods I’ve used magic and I’m underage.  I’ll be expelled!_ But in his haste, he overcompensated and swung to the right. He heard his sleeve rip, and then his broom treacherously bucked, propelling him forward and down, down, down through the tree.

The landing was soft.

That was a surprise.

And he wondered if he’d fallen face down into a bank of grass clippings or a hay bale because surely the dry ground would have hurt more than this.

“What have we here?” he heard Oikawa say.

“That was quick thinking, Tooru.”  Sugawara bent down and nudged Daichi on the arm. “Hello, are you okay?”

“Umff.”

“Tooru cast a Cushioning Charm.”

“Hey, don’t say that, he could be a Muggle!”

“Nah, it’s not,” said the third voice. “You’re Sawamura, aren’t you? From Gryffindor.”

“Uh, yeah,” Daichi croaked. He opened his eyes, not yet daring to stare at Sugawara and found himself inspected by two very shrewd, dark brown eyes. “You’re ... uh Iwaizumi, right?”

Iwaizumi Hajime, a Hufflepuff Chaser, as thick as thieves with Sugawara, and –oddly – Oikawa Tooru. 

“The fourth year reserve Keeper?” Tooru inquired. “The one who played in their last match.”

_Wow, he knows me!_

“Fifth year, now,” corrected Sugawara. He slipped his hand under Daichi’s arm. “Are you sure you’re not hurt, only you don’t seem to be able to turn around.”

_Because if I find myself looking at you, I’m going to blush an even deeper shade of red._

“He’s fine!” Tooru snapped. “But I would like to know why you’re here, Sawamura! Are you spying for Tanaka?”

“Huh?”

“Is she around, or did she just send her lion cub?” Tooru demanded. And then he bent down, grabbing Daichi by his shirt and dragging him to his feet. “Tell your Captain that the Slytherin team are going to whoop Gryffindor’s asses this season, and no amount of spying is going to uncover our strategy. Do you really think we’d be training here?”

“I ... hey, let go of me!” Daichi roared, and pushed against Oikawa’s chest. “How the hell was I supposed to know this was where you lived? I was just ... going for a ride on my broom and ... fell.”

“Fell?” Sugawara asked, amused.

Unthinking, Daichi snapped his head round to see two curious cinnamon brown eyes sparkling at him.

_Gods he’s beautiful._

“Yeah, fell,” he rasped. “My broom’s up there somewhere.”

“You want us to believe that you weren’t deliberately aiming apples at the Slytherin captain then,” Iwaizumi said sternly. And then he grinned at him. “Look, we’ve all been there. Cracking shot. Are you sure you don’t want to be a Chaser?”

“Hey, he hurt me!”

“Stop whining, Tooru. It was an apple, not a Bludger,” Iwaizumi retorted. He reached out and tugged on Daichi’s other arm. “Want a hand getting your broom back?”

“I can get it,” he mumbled, and stepped over to the tree, grabbing a branch to lever himself up. His shoulder creaked and he winced.

“You’re bleeding,” Sugawara said. “Besides, I think Hajime was going to get it down with magic, instead.”

“Nah, I was gonna climb,” Iwaizumi said. “Lot more fun. You purebloods rely on magic far too much.” His smile stopped when he assessed Daichi. “You might want to get that arm looked at, Sawamura.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, let me look at it,” Sugawara insisted, and pulled him away. He sat Daichi on the grass and pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. “Please, I want to be a Healer, so this is good practise.”

His hands were cool and soft, but his fingertips practised as he felt along Daichi’s arm. “Don’t think you’ve broken anything, but ... Tooru?”

“What?” Oikawa replied, sounding bored.

“Could you pass my bag?”

“Sure.”

The bag landed with a flump, and looking over Daichi saw Oikawa had lazily cast a locomotor spell.

_None of them are of age. Maybe this is what it’s like being pureblood – you can get away with anything._

“This will sting a bit,” Sugawara said, his voice steady. “It’s Essence of Murtlap and is very good for wounds.”

“Oh ... yeah ... I heard about that in Herbology.”

“And don’t be alarmed if you see smoke coming from your skin.”

“Whaaaat!” He wrenched away.

“Just kidding!” Sugawara trilled, then bit his lip. “Sorry, Sawamura, but you looked so intense that I thought a joke might relax you.”

Daichi gritted his teeth. “I am relaxed!”

“Are all Gryffindors as prickly as you?” Oikawa asked, laughing, then turned to Iwaizumi. “Still can’t work out why you were Sorted into Hufflepuff, my little hedgehog.”

“I just said Anywhere but Slytherin,” Iwaizumi joked, “because I knew that’s where you were heading.”

“He loves me really,” Tooru said lightly. He picked up a book, leant against a tree and flicked through the pages.

Sugawara had not been exaggerating and as the Murtlap seeped into his skin, Daichi winced, but ground his teeth together even harder.

“All done,” said Sugawara, but still his fingers were on Daichi’s arm, his fingertips tracing the healed wound. “You’ll be back and flying in no time, Sawamura. Going to try for a permanent team place this year?”

“Uh...”

“You played incredibly well, keeping Ravenclaws’ score down. If I were Gryffindor captain, I’d certainly be pencilling you in.” His thumb had begun to trace circles up Daichi’s arm, smoothing away the excess Murtlap Essence, probably.

“Put him down, Koushi, you have no idea where he’s been,” Oikawa drawled.

Sugawara’s cheeks pinked, and he released Daichi, clearing his throat as he hurriedly packed up his bag.

“One broom,” Iwaizumi cried, jumping down from the tree.

“So you can fly back home like a good boy,” Oikawa said sourly. “And stop pelting unsuspecting wizards with fruit.”

And Daichi must have flinched, or something, because the three of them stared at him.

“Uh ... yeah,” he muttered ... and backed away. “Thanks. I’d better go.”

He’d got to a clearing, pausing before he mounted his broom, when he heard a flurry of footsteps and a faint breath. He turned, not too surprised to see a flash of white-blonde hair and a tentative smile.

“Maybe don’t fly,” Sugawara said. “There are a lot of Muggles in the area. It does count as underage magic.”

“So what?” He shrugged.

 “Hmm, well, _I_ wouldn’t want a letter from the Ministry. Going for a broom ride is hardly a life or death situation.”

“You lot have been using magic,” Daichi grumbled.

“Well, it’s easy to get away with it on the Oikawa estate,” Sugawara explained. “The Ministry can’t differentiate between three underage wizards and the horde of servants the Oikawas employ.” He coughed.  “But they could expel you.”

“Don’t really think that matters much,” Daichi said, scuffing his shoe in the dust.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Sugawara peered closer, then brushed his hand on Daichi’s arm. “Are you all right? Look, if you were flying away from danger, then I’m sure the Ministry would go easy on you.”

“Yeah, well...” He kicked at a tuft of grass. “Won’t matter if I’m not at Hogwarts, will it?”

“Pardon.” Sugawara gaped at him. “You’re leaving? Are you ... uh ... transferring or something? Only I didn’t think that was possible in OWL year.”

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as the argument with his Mum swirled in his head. Sugawara’s hand became insistent, pulling him down to the grass and murmuring that he was here, and he’d listen. And despite his aversion to discussing his home life, such was Sugawara’s almost empathic touch and soothing voice, he found himself spilling out the tale, telling the story of that afternoon. How the years of resentment, the bitterness surrounding his existence and the real hatred of the world he inhabited that she had no part in. Everything culminating in the heated words of earlier, Bokuto’s Howler ripped in pieces, and ...

 “What else?” Sugawara asked, when he’d stalled.

“Uhm, photographs. She ripped one of them up,” he mumbled. “That’s when I lost it. “So, the Ministry owls are probably lined up waiting for me anyway. I should have stayed put.”

“Well, possibly,” Sugawara said, tilting his head to the side. “I guess it would have been the sensible option, but then leaving so you wouldn’t lose your temper again sounds like a good idea, too.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Must have been an important photograph,” Sugawara said a little later.  As he fluffed the back of his hair, it shone in the sunlight, almost blinding Daichi. “Someone you’re... um ... close to?”

“Not really.” He sniffed. “We’ve barely talked.”

Apart from now.

“Mum thinks I’m weird,” he muttered.

There was a silence, a very obvious reaction to the change  of subject, and Daichi wanted to leave right now, or  let the ground swallow him up, because surely, surely, _surely_ Suga must have worked out just who was in the photograph,. And that was too shaming, for what would a Hufflepuff Sixth Year, popular throughout the school, possibly want with a grubby, bruised Gryffindor Muggleborn?

“Then she’s probably _not_ going to want you hanging around all the time, is she?” Suga replied, clearing his throat. “Maybe you could play up on that and pretend to do magic. Could freak her out so much, she begs Nekomata to take care of you over Summer. Or at least, she won’t want you grounded where you’re under her feet all the time doing your ‘tricks’.”

Daichi gasped, then found himself laughing. “I should get Bokuto to send more Howlers.”

“Or ... uh ... I could,” Suga suggested, chewing on his lip.

And he looked flustered, adorably pink in the face, which was surely because of the sun and nothing else, although Suga wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Send me Howlers?”

“Well, that or ... um ... Singing Charms. I could pretend they’re ... uh ... from a girlfriend, if that’s easier.” He blushed a deeper pink. “Unless that upsets your _actual_ girlfriend, or that person you had a picture of. I wouldn’t want to ... um ... presume anything.”

“Why are you helping me?” Daichi croaked.

“It’s not every day someone lands at my feet the way you did,” Suga teased. He reached out, smoothing down some strands of Daichi’s hair. “And ... um ... I seem to remember last term, you ... um ... took some photographs, didn’t you?”

“Oh...” Heat flooded his face. “Yeah, you were laughing at something Iwaizumi said after the match.”

“I caught the Snitch, of course I was laughing. Euphoric we’d won a game, I expect.” He flashed a smile, not his wide one, but something smaller, more intimate. “Hajime spotted you, and told me to smile for the camera, but it was the ... uh ... photographer I was smiling at.”

“Me?” he asked, astounded.

“Oh yes. We both watched that last match of yours, gnashing our teeth because we so need a decent Keeper in Hufflepuff.”

_Oh, Quidditch, of course, well I guess it’s something._

But Sugawara was still speaking, and his eyelids flickered rapidly. “And I’ve been hoping to catch you because the photos in the paper were so good and I wanted to say thank you. But ... um ...” He licked his lips, his pale pink tongue peeking through his lips, “It’s hard to find people alone at Hogwarts, isn’t it?”

“Alone?” _Really,_ Daichi thought, _I need a throat sweet, I sound like a frog!_

“Yes, I could ... um ... buy you a Butterbeer or a coffee, if you’d rather. Only if you want to, I mean.”

 “I’d like that very much,” he sputtered, his voice a little rasping as it hitched.

“Koushi, where are you?”

“Tooru, leave him alone!”

“Oh, Merlin, I told them I was just checking you were okay and knew your way home,” Sugawara muttered. He leant closer, and his hair tickled Daichi’s cheek. “I’ll send an owl, at night so it doesn’t look odd, and then we can arrange a ... um ... a ...”

 “A date?” he supplied.

Suga huffed out a breath, sending a few fronds of his hair skywards, and he smiled. “Yes, if you like.”

Hearing Oikawa’s voice get louder, Sugawara began to move away.

_Be bold. Be reckless. Be a lion, Daichi!_

On instinct, the same instinct that had led him to explore the afternoon sunshine on a broom despite knowing the consequences could be dire, Daichi pressed his lips to Sugawara’s increasingly pink cheek. He smelt of honeysuckle, and the remains of the Murtlap. Fresh and healing.

And Sugawara moved, but not away. He twisted his head, brushing his lips to Daichi’s mouth.

Soft lips.

“KOUSHI!”

“I should go,” Sugawara murmured. “Tooru and Hajime won’t let up if they suspect anything.”

“Not good enough for them,” Daichi mumbled.

“Hajime’s a Muggleborn, just like you,” Sugawara replied, giving him a soft punch on the arm. “He and Tooru have been friends for years, so it’s not prejudice at all.”

“Then?”

“I’d just like to keep you to myself for now,” Sugawara replied, then sighed. “A delicious secret to keep me warm at night. Hogwarts is so very public. Unless that makes you uncomfortable.”

He thought of his dorm-mates. Bokuto would be unable to keep this to himself, Asahi would promise undying secrecy but be terrified of letting anything slip, and Kamasaki would laugh uproariously then promptly shout it from his broomstick during their next game.

“It’s fine,” Daichi replied. “Secrecy’s cool.”

And although the very obvious sounds of Oikawa and Iwaizumi tramping through the orchard towards them made their way to their ears, Suga let his lips linger a little longer, inhaling deeply.

“Have to say,  if Amortentia doesn’t smell of broomstick wax, fresh air and ...” He sniffed again. “ _Applewood_ , I’m going to be very disappointed.”


End file.
